


Factually Tremendous

by MayAnny



Category: Election - All Media Types, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Gen, Lefty Fear Mongering, Lefty Narrative, Political Satire, Random Snippets, Some political angst at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:33:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayAnny/pseuds/MayAnny
Summary: Short snippets of 'The Don's' Presidency, with America regretting his life choices (Or, the Presidency according to the Left).





	1. Repeal and Replace!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is largely out of sync with my current views. So take it as a joke, folks.

America would love to say he didn't know how he ended up with his current predicament.

It would certainly make him feel better.

But no, he had not earned this privilege. He knew exactly what happened and how. He watched as decades of economic malpractice set the grounds for this event, like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Everything his country – and therefore,  _ _America__  – has done was coming back to haunt him like a ghost from one of Japan's movies. It seems everything he's done in the past decades came back to haunt him at some point.

This was no different.

He wouldn't go as far as to blame his people, though. It was the system. It has failed them, his country has failed many, and now they had no qualms with throwing the Molotov Cocktail that was the Republican Candidate straight at him.

'It's healing holy water', some would say. 'Let it all burn' others would shout.

America grimaced as his eyes darted around the newly refurbished Oval Office. Having just arrived with his security detail, his sight was flooded by  _ _gold__ , just a lot of... gold decor and self-paintings of his newest president...

 _ _How tacky...__ America thought to himself, hugging his stack of paperwork tighter.

...He can't say he would be  _ _happy__  if the ex-First Lady had won – she honestly scared the bejesus out of him – but at least, with her it would be 'business as usual'.

It's not like he and Russia were getting along before either way, his whole military elite seemed to be perpetually out for Russian blood. Not something he wishes to continue like this, but at least he's familiar with that... He can work with that for a few more years. It's not like Russia actually wants war.

Now, though... it's totally and completely uncharted territory.

America was startled out of his stupor by the swinging chair that turned from the window to them, hands flat on the desk as if trying to imitate House of Cards but not looking nearly as awesome as Kevin Spacey...

The stench of  _ _smugness__  was pretty obvious, though.

"I have to say," His 45th president started. "this feels great, doesn't it? I want to see that Kenyan make fun of me  _ _now."__

America rolled his eyes subtly, shuffling the papers he had in his hands. He had a feeling that Don – as America would try to call him, because every president gets a nickname – never forgave O-Man for making fun of him at the Correspondents' Dinner, years ago...

Still, he wouldn't dignify that with a rebuttal. It was ridiculous enough to argue that his Intelligence Agencies would  _ _overlook__  a non-American running for  _ _president,__  it was even more ridiculous to do so after proof has been handed multiple times,  _ _only__ to satisfy these people.

The man gave him a hard look, as if trying to remember where he had seen him before. "Who are  _ _you__  again?"

America looked up with a raised eyebrow. Seriously…? No one debriefed this guy? Well, he guessed O-Man really didn't want to deal with this, and Don was an outsider, of course he didn't know who America was. "I work directly for the president, any info you need, just  _ _ask."__  Was all he gave the man. Debriefings later... "Anyway, Don, I-"

"Hey, respect is important here, I'm your boss, aren't I?" The man snapped.

"...Sure." America relented with a sigh,  _ _as if__  he would stick to formalities. " _ _Anyway__ , about your campaign propositions-"

The things that worried America the most... They  _ _needed__  to talk about them before setting anything in motion.

"Right, we gotta get rid of Obamacare as soon as possible, and build our wall."

Oh, Mexico is pissed off enough as it is... It's bad enough that people down there are leaving  _ _because__  of America's drug policies creating such a huge black market for cartels to thrive, now people like Don are blaming them for it. None of his southern neighbors will ever forget this shit.

"Wall aside for now, replace Obamacare with... what, exactly...? We can't leave people without healthcare-"

"You're right, but I already got a plan, we can't have people dying on the streets." Credit to the man, for not being the worst of the worst and stating the obvious here... "We can make a deal with the hospitals, have a private system, and the poor- the people who don't have the money- we can make a deal with the hospitals, we have so many hospitals that are doing poorly because of Obamacare- I mean, we need to repeal and replace it, make a deal, make the hospitals treat these people- funded by the government, it's gonna be tremendous- and have the private plans, have insurance companies compete to keep prices low, that everyone's going to like, everyone told me-"

America watched with a deadpan as the man rambled on, incoherent after a few seconds. "Okay, stop,  _ _stop__. You mean, have multiple private insurances with plans for people to choose, and have the government... pay for the ones who are too poor to pay...?"

Don seemed to think for a second, before nodding. "Yes, probably."

America narrowed his eyes in pure confusion. "That... That's what Obamacare  _ _is.__  You've just described Obamacare."

Another second of thought. "No, that's wrong."

"It isn't. Your plan is to replace Obamacare… with  _ _Obamacare__." America shook his head lightly, fixing Don with a stare that he hoped would convey how stupid this whole thing sounded. "You have no idea what you're talking about... do you?!"

"I do, I know this better than  _ _anyone,__  believe me, listen-"

"No, you don't!" It's not like America didn't know the man lacked the basic knowledge of the inner workings of government policies and other such nuances, he's seen the man flout said ignorance  _ _many__  times!

Why was he surprised?! Part of him hoped he was faking, or something! Anything to explain  _ _this__  would be fine!

"I know what I'm talking about, trust me, this will work. We'll just get rid of the State lines, too. They'll compete,"

"That doesn't work either, all the insurance companies will just go to the State with the smallest tax rate...!"

"No, they won't, we'll make a deal with them."

"That's  _ _not__  how this works...!"

"We'll expand Medicaid, then." Don shrugged, annoyance showing.

"That's what Obamacare  _ _does...!"__

"Wrong-"

"No, not wrong!"

The man seemed utterly convinced with the idea that insurance companies cared about anything other than their own profits and could be reasoned with instead of forced to do anything – as if they would put the people over said profits – and was now giving America an annoyed glare.

"By the way, you worked for Obama, didn't you?"

"...Yeah?" America narrowed his eyes.

"Right, you're fired."

America's shoulders hitched up in surprise, his eyes wide. Right, outsider… He deflated and facepalmed with a sigh.

This would be a long term...

"Uh, sir?" A stoic Secret-Service agent poked his head inside the room. "You cannot  _ _fire__  Mr. Jones."

"Why not?"

"Also," America muttered lowly. "you can't just fire me for pointing out that you're wrong." So fucking  _ _petty__...

As the agent continued, America straightened his posture to look more imposing. "Mr. Jones is a very important entity of the United States, representing our country to the rest of his kind across the world." The agent droned.

America exhaled tiredly at him. "...One day… you'll be able to describe us without making it look like we're  _ _aliens__."

"Uuh…" It didn't look like Don got it.

"He's been a part of this government since its inception in 1789, and fought for this country's independence with the Founding Fathers." The agent had a tiny smile as well.

"Take your time and think about this. We'll be working together from now on." America sighed and began to walk away, as clearly, his newest president needed some time to digest things. "You didn't know this because you're not a politician and you're not actually  _ _elite__ ," This last line seemed to hit a nerve, as he received a scowl in return. "but don't feel bad. The Liaison Bureau will keep an eye on your online activity, in case you  _ _try__  to talk about this – not like anyone would believe you anyway – so let's keep this a secret, as it's been since  _ _forever__." He stopped by the door, closing it half way. "If you have any questions, ask any other Senator. If anyone needs me, I'll be home, getting  _ _drunk__." And he closed the door harshly enough to make the walls shake.

He felt like he would need his liquor stash for the next four years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't like the guy. But hey, let's just have a laugh. Anyone can make fun of him, the guy is not a fucking prophet.


	2. Money Moves the World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normal worries people have. Can't blame anyone.

America grunted as he threw his phone back on the couch behind him, tired of reading the messages.

So much hanging on that Paris Agreement, so many Nations finally agreeing on something  _ _for__   _ _once__ , and now it has been ripped apart, by his newest president.

No one he knew was happy with him at the moment.

' _ _Good thing I've banned this idiot from my country.'__ England had typed.

' _ _A Nation should not exercise their authority too much, but this is a case where I recommend you do. Control your leader.'__ Germany had said.

' _ _So undignified.'__ France had said, and America could basically hear the resentment.

America sniffed, cheek leaning on the glass of the window – where he could see the White House garden, it was a  _ _wonderful__  day outside, the sun was mocking him with its sunshine – as he rested on the seat he had dragged there so he could mope on that spot.

Naturally, he felt down on the dumps. The uncertainty that 'The Don' has caused made the market react negatively, and so, his mood plummeted.

Typically, they love Republicans… but  _ _this__  outsider is too much of a wild card. They all shat themselves when the results were out.

They thought Hill would win, they broke out the champagne and everything...! But just like Iggy's Brexit problem, the unexpected knocked on their door like an unwanted Jenova's Witness, and stocks collapsed in pure deluded shock and denial.

370 economists were screeching 'Anyone but him!', so America  _ _sort__   _ _of__  saw this coming.

His Dollar is the reserve currency of all his fellow Nations. Everything rests on his currency being stable and solid. His word on these matters  _ _needed__  to be trustworthy…!

But now this man, who America could not bring himself to trust, has said the opposite, saying he wanted a 'fresh start',  _ _default__  on their debt.

Default! America whined, lightly banging his forehead on the glass. If they defaulted, there would be a worldwide depression like they've never seen, and everyone would blame him again...!

Worse than the Great Depression... America was so not ready for that...!

Still, Don was surrounded by the horrible Neocons from Bush's posse, and he did have a tendency to listen to the 'last guy in the room'... just like Bush.

Not good, but honestly, America would prefer to have another war, rather than crashing everyone's markets and then have them shit on his doorstep one day and leave a ' _ _Yourded__ ' card on his mail.

"Yeeeah, war is great…!" America laughed manically. It's either that or crying.

He then saw it, through the window. A fucking  _ _bulldozer__. America quickly pressed his face against the glass, as if it would help him see better.  _ _What the-__ In another attempt to somehow prove to himself that he was seeing and hearing things, he opened the window and leaned outside.

It was still there.

He also saw Don and  _ _Christie__  – his best 'buddy' who was nearly picked for VP – and swore under his breath, squeezing through the window, jumping down, and crouching to absorb the impact once he hit the ground.

America gritted his teeth and speed-walked towards them. "What the fuck is that doing here?!"

"Oh, hello." Don greeted as if he had done  _ _absolutely__  nothing wrong, ever.

"Alfred…!" To his credit, Christie looked properly appalled to see him. "It wasn't my idea." Was his flimsy defense.

America waved him off carelessly. "I don't care, what are  _ _you__  doing?" He turned to his boss.

"I'm thinking about turning this whole garden into a casino," What. "It'll be great, don't you think? Great business." Don nodded to himself.

America blinked and twitched. "Over my dead body." He gritted out slowly. Not in his White House, nope.

Don made a funny face and turned to Christie. "See, what did I tell you? This is the pathetic state of our country, we have a real problem. He doesn't like  _ _capitalism__  anymore?"

"Blame the liberals." Christie shrugged, but within that second, he was sweating under America's glare.

"Chris..." America began with a hiss, making the man blanch and attempt to shrink into nothingness with little success. "Call Mark, from the Liaison Bureau. Tell him... that I'm about to do something  _ _stupid__." He then turned and stormed over the bulldozer which was about to run over and ruin the beautiful arrangement of flowers on his awesome garden.

All while hearing their conversation.

" _ _Is he always this whiny?"__

America forcefully pulled the driver out and scared him away, not caring that the poor worker left crying in fear.

" _ _I-I'm sure other presidents had to deal with this too, he's like a teenager..."__

America rounded the vehicle, looking for the right spot.

" _ _If this guy is supposed to represent our country, then we really need to toughen up."__

America scowled and growled to himself, and the two humans watched and slowly gaped as the large vehicle was lifted off the ground with little effort, "Fuck off!" and thrown out of the propriety, making the ground shake a bit, and America huffed wearily and menacingly stomped towards his president. "This ain't one of your shitty businesses!"

A guy whose businesses went bankrupt at least  _ _six__   _ _times__  had no right to even  _ _think__  about trying to start one on  _ _his__  propriety, no matter his current political position.

Don and Christie both took a step back. Naturally, of course, no matter what this guy said and no matter what his people thought, he's still the richest and strongest Nation in the world, hands down.

"N-Now look here, I know what I'm doing, this was going to be great, people would love it-!"

"No, nooo,  _ _no__." America waved his hands as he repeated his words. "No.  _ _This__  is  _ _my__  house, not your playground! I know you think you're awesome, but I've got your record, capiche?" America leaned closer to glare more efficiently. "Trump Shuttle, Trump Vodka, Trump Magazine, and World Magazine, Trump University, Trump Mortgage  _ _right__  before the entire market collapsed, and don't  _ _even__  get me started on those Stakes! Your lack of financial instincts is fucking ridiculous!" America turned to Christie. "Didn't I tell you to call Mark?! C'mon, there's a wrecked pile of metal on the other side of that gate!"

Lecture delivered, he turned and stalked away angrily, muttering, 'Gotta find a gardener to fix these tire marks...' He ignored the other two humans.

" _ _Uh… I think he's just in a bad mood because of the markets, falling stock prices are like PMS for him..."__

" _ _Is there a way to get rid of him...?"__

" _ _Ah, no...?"__

America hoped the markets would sort themselves out of this funk soon, he felt like banging his head against a wall, as if it would make him feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really think he would try to build a casino at the White House (in fact, I think he doesn't really want to stay in that not-golden shack). But I find the thought funny.


	3. A Normal American Day

America walked as he shuffled over the stack of papers he was supposed to deliver to his boss. It was all from congress, and he could already see the clever wording used, as if they were attempting to outsmart the president.

Granted, though, not much was needed to outsmart the guy and they probably saw a golden opportunity there... His congressmen were all very slimy. A little bit of money thrown his way and things were signed with little to no thought.

The 'big guys' already got more tax cuts. The 'little guys' already got more benefit cuts.

Not unexpected, America knew the man had no strong moral character to resist the greed. It only made the lives of his people even more difficult now.

With a tired huff, he reached the Oval Office, seeing the door slightly open, and pushed it with his shoulder, stopping dead on the spot with wide eyes when he was met by an unexpected sight.

"Oh, hi."  _ _Don. Jr.__ greeted from the president's seat, feet up on the desk as he perused a magazine, possibly a Playboy or similar brand.

America stared for a long second before he finally spoke. "What the flying fuck are  _ _you__  doing here...?"

"Rude... Dad hired me to sign stuff." Junior shrugged, flipping a page, then raised an eyebrow at him. "And who are  _ _you__?"

Not bothering to spare him a response, America turned around, finding the VP, Mike, standing by the door, hand half-way up to knock. America pointed back at Junior there with a thumb and an incredulous expression.

Mike seemed just as confused. "Uh… I-I don't know." He shrugged.

America turned back to Junior. "Where the hell  _ _is__  he, then?"

Don Junior flipped another page. "Some fundraising thing, by the Lincoln Memorial."

With a scoff, America turned to Mike, shoving the stack of papers on him. "You work on these for now, and get him out of here. This ain't a family business."

"Hey, hey!" Junior finally stood, glaring at him. "Dipshit, I was hired, remember?"

America waved his hands excitedly. "Oh, look at  _ _that,__ I forgot to give a fuck!" He then laughed almost manically before turning to a slightly frightened Mike with a deadpan. "Get him  _ _out."__

America was out of there not soon  _ _enough__.

* * *

It had to be cruel irony that this was happening at the Lincoln Memorial. America hoped the man wasn't turning in his grave… Oh, who was he kidding? Lincoln was crying his guts out in the fetal position.

He spotted a crowd just as soon as he got there – he even spotted an idiot with a Confederate flag –and behind, somewhat scattered, there were protesters. He was surprised no one threw a shoe at the president yet.

With a sigh, America went around, to the area where the president would retreat to once the speech was done.

" _ _And we're starting out project, for the wall, don't worry- and we're banning Muslims as well, we're getting the equipment ready- there won't be any dangerous illegals anymore-"__

Oh, the dangerous illegals...! We'll all be safe and snug as a bug once they are gone! America thought sarcastically. As if more than half of mass shootings weren't perpetrated by  _ _white males.__

America rolled his eyes. The guy is talking out of his ass, congress didn't approve  _ _anything__. They just cut things, because why not?

Besides, building a  _ _fence__  was enough of a hassle. People had to be paid out of their land, even! It was a bureaucratic nightmare! There are areas where the wall should be where there were no paved roads and heavy equipment couldn't reach through the uneven soil! What, is he going to build roads for  _ _that__  when so many other infrastructure issues still plagued the country?

That wall isn't getting off the ground.

The project itself was annoyingly unfeasible, as in, a pure waste of money to build and maintain – according to his math – and these days, more Mexicans are actually  _ _leaving__ rather than coming in.

Not to mention many simply overstayed their visas and were still working. Some had been here for years, had families, and paid taxes.

The president would need black cars running all over, ripping families apart like some dystopian movie scene and shipping out tax-payers.

It just isn't  _ _feasible.__

This certainly didn't factor into these people's minds, though. Not to mention, America is pretty sure he's not talking about  _ _Svens__  and  _ _Alberts__  when he says 'illegal immigrants'.

He's certainly talking about  _ _Juans__  and  _ _Josés__.

Once in the back, America spotted Mark, his liaison guy, who was fidgetting nervously on the spot. He twitched when noting his presence. "Alfred! How are you doing?"

"Fine. Why are you here?"

"Oh, just making sure he doesn't, uh... say anything he shouldn't about you. He just seem so flaky, I feel like he would say something... even if by accident..." The man was almost cutting his own nails in anxiety. "Everything okay, by the way?"

"No, everything's  _ _not__  okay." America hissed, crossing his arms and waiting until his boss was done, and spoke once he was close enough. "Did you forget you have a  _ _job__?"

"You know," Don started with a funny expression. "I never understood, when people talk about their  _ _nagging wives,__  but I think I get it now."

"Ha." America was thanking his lucky stars that he wasn't a woman.

* * *

****In an alternate universe…** **

America stared wide-eyed at her boss, her mind trying to process what just happened.

Was she just kissed and groped? Yes. Yes, she was. Her expression quickly changed into a scowl, teeth showing and all.

Fist, meet  _ _face__.

* * *

America blinked when spotting something in the crowd. "You know there are neonazis on your audience, right?"

"No, no, they're nice people."

"I can see the tattoos."

"Can't they express themselves? It's free speech."

"They're  _ _armed__ …!"

"2nd Amendment rights."

"They're hassling a protester!"

"That guy really shouldn't be here."

"Whatever happened to free speech, then?" America huffed and turned away from the man, focusing on Mark as he took his suit jacket off. "Mark, call your folks, I'm about to-"

"Do something stupid…?" Mark asked hesitantly as he held his jacket.

"No, not stupid." America rolled up his sleeves and walked towards the racket with a determined look on his eyes. "Definitely not  _ _stupid__."

Mark sighed and brought up his phone. "Time to erase memories..."

Don winced at the fight that broke out. "Is he allowed to do that?"

"Kinda? You can't prosecute him, so..." Mark shrugged, ignoring the whole thing. "Pretty sure he'll be fine. He has centuries worth of combat experience, and I'm sure he knows how to hurt  _ _without__  killing people."

Some gunshots, broken noses, and an act of heroism later, America felt like he had detoxicated himself of the last few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, nazi Trump-fans are a tiny minority that no one takes seriously. But liberals are kinda going crazy about it and I'm just kinda watching from the sidelines.


	4. America Ruins Dinner

America felt his brow twitch and bit harder on his cigarette as he felt a compulsive need to go outside and breathe some fresh air. It felt better to have a cigarette, too, as either way he would be stuck with the smell and taste of  _smoke,_  so he might as well have the nicotine and the rest of the stuff to make him feel better.

He felt like shit. These last few months, the last thing America wanted was to be anywhere near the deregulated mess so many of his States were in.

'Let's get rid of the FDA and the EPA!' they said. 'It's going to be great!'. Well, America mused as he slouched towards the dining room, congrats to Don, he did get rid of them.

Now America knows the answer to the millennium-old question  _ _'What is it like to be China?'__

Breathing outside was like being surrounded by a gang of chain-smokers who  _ _really__  needed help. No regulations to control the carbon emission, now just like China, smog blocked the sun.

America can no longer brag about his clear and  _ _beautiful__  blue skies and fluffy white clouds to China, and lung cancer cases shot through the roof like the soul ripper's dream-rocket.

Yay to progress, he guessed.

On the other hand... ah, no, things were just as bad, America even iffy about  _ _food__ now. To the guy who ruined  _ _food__  for him... He deserves a special spot in  _ _hell.__ Reaching the dining room, he stopped for just a second to listen, sensing someone, a man, who normally wasn't there.

" _ _-e been giving you trouble?"__

" _ _Yes, a little- it's- I think we really should let him know who's his boss."__

" _ _Good luck with that, he's historically rebellious."__

" _ _I think Obama was too soft on him. He's very, very weak, in character."__

America rolled his eyes and kicked the door open casually. "I'm what now?"

The two men flinched as he strolled in, seeing the First Lady's surprised look, and the daughter's eyes wandering up and down over him – not that it bothered America, he knew how hot and awesome he was.

"Oh, god, how did he know..." He heard Junior muttering.

America turned to him as he grabbed an apple from the bow, passing from hand to hand as he gritted his teeth on the cigarette. "I know  _ _everything__ that happens here." At Junior's suppressed look of shock, America continued. "Yes, even  _ _that__." This made his eyes widen as he leaned away.

He didn't  _ _actually__  know if Junior did anything weird in the White House, but it was fun to make him feel  _ _paranoid.__ It's his new hobby.

With a smile at the First Lady and her daughter, America turned to the other man in the room, Steven, the newest Treasury Secretary. "Hi, Steven. Any new fraud schemes planned?" He asked sweetly as he held his cigarette to take a bite, hoping there would be no worms inside the fruit.

The man gave him a hard smile, brows furrowing. "Hello to you as well, Mr. Jones. You should know Goldman Sachs does not condone such behavior-"

"Yeah, yeah, of course it doesn't." America interrupted as he leaned on the table a bit. The man's brow twitched. He used to work for this particular bank, which was mostly responsible for the last market Crash. They sold toxic subprime mortgage packages with a  _ _great__  sales-pitch _ _,__  before turning around and betting for them to  _ _fail.__

Economic malpractice at its finest. This was an  _ _ultra-establishment__  trash, and Don picked him for  _ _Treasury__  Secretary.

So much for the anti-establishment candidate.

Still, it was no worse than the guy Don picked to be in charge of his foreign policy, Bolton, good ol' Neocon who seemed perpetually in love with wars – probably jacked off to gore porn or something similar – and always insisted on having America on board of any and all operations where someone, somewhere, needed to be assassinated to spark a conflict.

Honestly, America has lost the taste for this kind of shit… Being an Empire wasn't cool or fun anymore…

Don seemed just plain  _ _not in the mood__  to deal with America, so Stevens answered instead. " _ _Alfred,__ please show more respect to your superiors, you're not a  _ _child__."

America ignored this, he threw his apple on a trashcan in the corner, resumed his smoking, and calmly picked up a knife, a big one used to cut meat, while maintaining constant eye-contact. "I wish I could kill you in your sleep."

The man backed away, smile wavering. "N-Need I remind you of your restraining order on any of our top bankers?"

America shrugged, knife and glasses gleaming. "It's worth a try."

After a few shocked seconds, Stevens straight out  _ _ran,__  scarpered, turned tail, or, skedaddled out of there.

America scoffed and stuck the knife on the table, startling everyone. "Idiot." He hissed.

He guessed that Don was too desperate to be part of their inner circle and was now giddily doing their bidding, however, America was just waiting for his authoritarian streak to kick in... Any day now.

"Could you get out?" Don started. "I can't eat with this stench around you."

America huffed, putting off the cigarette on the pristine white tablecloth. "It  _ _stinks,__  doesn't it...? It's what I have to deal with, every hour, of every.  _ _single.__  day..." He hissed with a scowl, making his president back off. Then he looked at the meat on the plate, leaning back and muttering "By the way... I sure hope there isn't any Salmonella in that steak."

Again, everyone stopped, all with a fork half-way up. Don narrowed his eyes, as if suspecting America had done something. "Is there?"

"Oh, I dunno." America shrugged, hands up with fake innocence as he stood up with a sinister grin. "With the 'food police' gone, there's no one to check, right? Who knows, that might not even be the type of meat you think it is- Did you know? China once found  _ _rat meat__  on the market! He has no food police either! Great,  _ _isn't...?"__

With that, he left in silence, sure that no one in there would be finishing their dinner. He would take war over living like this any day, and now, America felt like the more time he spent with this man as his boss, the more unhinged he became…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, these are some worries people have.   
> No solid plan to replace Obamacare.  
> Defaulting on US debt and its disastrous consequences.  
> Neonazis and other weird people feeling empowered and righteous.  
> And now, consequences of extreme deregulation, and political corruption just the same.
> 
> But uh... We'll see. :I


	5. Who's to Blame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weird political angst out of fucking nowhere.

The dim light almost made him want to sleep. America swirled his glass of alcohol, watching the condensed water fall from the bottom and hit the wood of the stand bar.

As a rule of thumb, America always tried to remain impartial to elections of any kind. These were his citizens' business, and he was supposed to stand on the sidelines, wait patiently, and accept the results.

That last season, however, had sucker-punched him with a spiked gauntlet.

Beyond the usual head-splitting headaches – admittedly worse than ever at that time – America had to watch as the divide between Red and Blue grew, so much that he felt like his _old friend_ was about to rise from the grave and kill him in his sleep.

Good ol' Texas – the original one – always seemed like a shadow behind him. A shadow that grew more and more every decade, and maybe this was his return...

In spirit at least.

Maybe America should be thanking his lucky stars, again, for simply being alive. That seemed like a good achievement.

But maybe, he wasn't as disconnected as he thought he was. He saw this coming after all. He understood how so many people couldn't express their opinions without being immediately labeled, all while so many workers were left behind by his system, so many bitter men who could do little besides scapegoating their problems.

Blame the black man with their 'affirmative action', stealing our jobs. Blame the latino man, here illegally while stealing our jobs. Blame the Muslim, here to hurt our loved ones and corrupt our culture. Blame, blame, blame, I can't stand being blamed anymore, they thought, someone _else_ is to blame. Has to be.

This was the Left's fault, it had to be, for pushing so much in the wrong direction. For attacking anyone with a different view of the world with such harsh words.

Don't vote for her and you're a _misogynist._ Ask for immigration reform, and you're a _racist._ If you're on the Right, you're a _freak, evil, racist, stupid,_ a basket of _deplorables-_ America couldn't blame them for what they did! He just couldn't do it!

When has anyone been persuaded by being _insulted_ or _labeled?_ When has anyone accepted this without becoming bitter? Without taking action to fight back?!

 _Backlashes_ were always painful...

With a tired sigh, America left some money on the stand and wobbled out of the bar, hands in his pockets.

He felt no better outside.

Previous thoughts aside, a few years of deregulation, of no FDA or EPA, and the so-called free market left him feeling like he was perpetually walking around a decayed factory city in Kansas. Little wonderful places full of workers and strong Unions until predatory capitalism terminated their jobs and moved their factories to another country.

Cheaper hands, why wouldn't they...?

Beyond that, ever since the _debt default,_ he felt like his life fell apart. His family wouldn't so much as talk to him anymore. After all, there's only so much family love Nations can share... They couldn't bring themselves to stick with him when he caused them so much pain...

They were becoming more and more paranoid as their European Union fell apart, each focusing more and more on their own military instead, as if readying themselves for something. War was most likely imminent. Economic strife breeds extremism after all...

Russia was certainly happy, though. No more NATO crouching on his borders...

Looking up as he thrusted his hands in his pockets, America wished he could see the moon. Instead, he barely caught its glow through the smog. Ahead, he couldn't see anything more than a few feet away, and only occasionally, he would hear and _then_ see a car pass by.

Because of that, America didn't think much when he heard another car coming. His head was down, so when it stopped, seemingly beside him, he blinked in surprise as something – a hand – grabbed his arm, and he was pulled to the side. "Whoa!"

Now he was in a moving car, a limo of sorts, and in the seat facing him, he saw her. With a deadpan and a sniff, America leaned back with his arms crossed. "Oh, look who it is..." He slurred a bit. "The hawk chick who couldn't beat a fascist idiot on the polls..."

"Alfred." Hillary started with a frigid smile, fake as always. "How are you doing?"

"Please, like you _care..."_ America rolled his eyes, suddenly feeling much more constricted with the agents beside him, so he stretched his arms, pushing them into the doors so he could have some space.

They huffed in mild annoyance, but stayed put.

"I do care, Alfred," Oh, how she lies to herself... "I understand how important you are to this country, what you represent." There was a pause. "I'm assuming you're not feeling well..."

With a frown, shook his head. "Not feeling well in an understatement. Now... what do you _want...?"_

This seemed to make the woman drop the pleasantries with a slight nod. "I'm sure you know a lot of people aren't happy with the way things are looking, Millennials in particular are very dissatisfied. Out productivity and wealth is decreasing as more people die. It's a… sharp decline."

Productivity and wealth… A normal person would see a problem when simply hearing that many people were _dying,_ but politicians, 'leaders'… they watch the power-play under cold and calculating lenses. People come _after_ all of that.

America would be much more disgusted if he wasn't so _used to it._ It's just how ruling works. Politics 101, if you will.

To the normal people, they just seem like short-sighted, selfish people, sitting on a shining throne like they just don't care. From behind the scenes, it was a constant struggle to not topple a throne on top of a house of cards.

However, a competent leader should be able to balance their power and the people. Neither his president, nor _this_ person, were quite capable of that.

"So what?" America began, wishing he had another bottle as his metabolism quickly got rid of the alcohol, leaving an annoying buzz behind. "You want to start something? An _Impeachment_ maybe?" He laughed emptily.

He saw her eyes narrowing. "I know you understand, Alfred, that this was a mistake. You chose-"

America stopped her, palm up quickly enough to startle the agents. "No, no, no. Don't you even _dare_ say I wanted _this_ to happen…!"

"He was elected. Wasn't he?" She barely hid that hiss.

"That doesn't mean shit and you know it!" Leaning forward, America scowled. "You know who I blame? _You."_

Her shoulders twitched at the venom in his voice.

"Yes, you. You failed so miserably, you know why? Because you were so far into your bubble, that you failed to see what they thought of you. You ran over Bernie like a snake, and then proceeded to snub your entire base by running to the Right to _beg_ for voters. You looked down on my youngest generation of young adults, like they were uneducated, like they just didn't 'understand' what you stood for- No, they understood _exactly_ what kind of person you are...! And you just kept proving them right...! Many went to the other side simply because they couldn't _stand_ you!"

"Alfred," She started with a sigh, a shake of the head as if she were looking at an ignorant child. "You know that the people can't really see what happens behind the scenes-"

"No, most don't..." America hissed. Here it is, her 'private opinion'. "But believe me, Hill, when I tell you that they can smell your crap a mile away... Your husband voted for NAFTA, it took millions of jobs, destroyed those people's livelihoods, and you wanted to go even further with the TPP! And you voted for the Iraq War, don't you get it?! That goddamn war was a defining moment in their childhoods, they all remember, and now they know that hundreds of thousands were killed, that we attacked a Nation and his people when they didn't attack us!"

Before she could defend herself, America continued.

"You voted for the Patriot Act, which ripped my Constitution in half and shat on it! 4th Amendment, protection from unreasonable search and seizure," America shrugged with a wide-eyed glared. "that's not a thing anymore, we don't believe in it, it's gone, apparently! NSA can spy on anyone, collect anyone's data, and you voted for that bill! 8th Amendment, protection from cruel and unusual punishment, gone, who cares?! You still wanted to intervene in Syria's business, you supported Libya's regime change! That's the thing, Hill, they know you lie, they see you taking money from foreign Nations, they know you'll be doing _them_ favors! They don't see a good leader, they see right through you! Someone who wanted to be president for her own narcissistic reasons! And that's why you lost!"

He backed off, huffing and puffing. Save from the engine running, everything was silent.

Rubbing his face under his glasses, America leaned over, elbows on his knees as he sighed. "Funny thing is…" He started, tone resigned. "I don't blame them... You... and the Establishment, you all ignored them too much, stepped over their rights too much... Stole from them too much, and now, I have to pay for it, for overlooking it."

The tense silence was broken by a sigh. Hill looked both angry and a tad ashamed, which she tried to hide – didn't hide well enough, she's still not the best liar.

"We're going to work on an Impeachment process with or without your help, Alfred, but it would be... preferable if you were on our side."

America gave her an exhausted look. He almost felt like she dismissed his words, but he knew he'd hit a nerve. "I wouldn't mind... but I won't work with you."

At her raised eyebrow, he continued.

"In fact, it would be better if you... retired. Leave politics."

"I-" At her somewhat outraged look, America leaned back, crossing his arms and legs.

"You're done, Hill. Most of the country _hates_ you. You should be thanking your powerful buddies that you're not in _jail_ right now. So take the money you have left and get the fuck out of the system while you still can. Because I'm not working with you."

His tone was final, with no room for argument.

Hillary gritted her teeth, seemingly abandoning a bit of her fake decorum. "I'm not leaving because of that conman…!"

"Not because of him, but because of everyone who _hates_ you. You're done. You can try again, but you'll only get crushed." He sighed. "My country will be better off if you just leave this to me, the Progressives, and the Libertarians. We're usually the ones who have to band together to get anything done these days. Hell, maybe we can even get the Tea Party to help..."

She scoffed, her fingers snapping and making the car pull to a full stop. "Alfred, you cannot seriously think that I'm going to listen to you, just because you _think_ there's no more room for me in Washington."

America grinned lightly. The agent beside him opened the door but didn't pull him out, almost hesitant to do so. America moved to step outside. "That's okay, Hill, that's okay..." He noted the rain once outside, and leaned down to look at the ex-First Lady. "You never listened to us, anyway."

He backed away and the door was slammed shut, and soon enough, a torrent of acid rain fell upon him, making his eyes sting as the black car screeched away. America sighed. Maybe... He thought to himself. Maybe... he should have moved to Canada's place and became a little province of sorts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hillary will always be a fucking bitch. :) I'm honestly happy all the sane people can agree on that. 
> 
> Further thoughts for the LEFT:
> 
> I'm going to recommend two videos that got me thinking really hard about this situation, and why it happened, and how the Left is partly to blame (there are many factors, but one of them, is how the Left has been behaving these last few years).
> 
> "Further Thoughts on the Goode Family" This is 'further thoughts' of some guy's review of a show that mocked liberals with a Straw Man, that is, mocked a false and weakened version of liberals that the author conjured. But he had some thoughts of the current political schism between Left and Right that I thought anyone should listen and reflect on.
> 
> "President Trump: How & Why..." And this video, that works as a proper slap to the face to any Leftist out there who doesn't understand why Trump won, it's a video to anyone who's out there calling people who voted for him racists and nazi and fascist or misogynist. This is what I ask you, Leftist readers, to watch and think about it, reflect like I did, and understand what went wrong.
> 
> Once there, read some of the comments too, maybe you'll find me there.
> 
> Type it up there on YouTube and watch it. It's important that you think deeply about this if you're Left-Wing, even more if you believe in Social Justice.


End file.
